


Down To Do It Either Way, Often

by Phillipa19



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Hand Jobs, Jealous Zayn, M/M, Non AU, Smut, Top Zayn, Unsafe Sex, WWA Tour, but who cares because commited relationship blah blah, gets a little fluffy at some points, little angst but not really, zarry - Freeform, zayn gets jealous because there are loads of Larry signs in the crowd basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phillipa19/pseuds/Phillipa19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Zayn, management is going to slaughter you for that,” Harry said breathlessly as Zayn’s mouth explored his collarbones, nipping and marking Harry’s pale skin even more.</p><p>“Ask me if I give a shit?”</p><p>***<br/>Zayn get's jealous when their audience seems to be filled with signs about Harry and Louis, and feels the need to make sure Harry is still his and his alone.<br/>Gratuitous smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down To Do It Either Way, Often

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally self-indulgent. The Weeknd brought out 'Often' and it's just one of those 'someone should fuck to this' songs and then I thought of Zarry and . . . here we are.
> 
> Shout out to Shivani (Bandkink) and babe I know you prefer dick . . . but I prefer cock, this is our only point of contention.
> 
> This is unedited as per usual because I'm lazy and it's 01:26am and I really cba.
> 
> Fic title is from ‘Often’ by The Weeknd which you should listen to because damn.

There were more signs than usual at tonight’s show, and by some of the matching themes it was pretty obvious to Harry that this had been set up by the fans. 

Reading the signs was one of the things Harry loved most, he loved reading about how much the fans loved them and how he’d helped them and how they were happier because of his music, but . . . Not all signs can be put into those categories. There are always the sexual ones, the ‘Let Me Malik You Zayn’ or the ‘Harry I Have a Pussy For You’ or the ‘Louis Sit On My Face’ ones. Usually he could pretty much laugh them off, they were pretty inventive half the time and he could commend the fans on their imagination. But tonight it seems like a lot of the signs were playing with the one topic that could definitely raise a few hackles; ships. 

Harry and Louis had long ago had to agree to ignore the whole ‘Larry Stylinson’ thing, for god’s sake all they had between them were a few drunken snogs that never meant anything, but that got a little harder when every sign had something to do with their supposed ‘relationship’. 

‘Blue Eyes loves Green Eyes’

‘Birds don’t even have eyebrows!’ Okay that one was a great leap but had actually just been an accident on Harry’s part. 

‘Harry loves his Daddy. Louis loves his Baby.’ Harry didn’t even want to think about that one too hard. 

Thing is, Harry was very good at being civil about it, the girls weren’t being mean, they were actually being pretty damn loving and supportive, problem was that they were supporting the wrong thing. Louis usually just pretended the signs didn’t exist, Harry wished Zayn would too, because gradually throughout the show Zayn’s shoulders seemed to tense more and more until Harry was surprised he didn’t jump off of stage and hit a girl with her Larry sign.

Zayn could usually shrug it off too, after over 4 years now he was used to the speculation and the scrutiny, but sometimes- like tonight- the protective, possessive core of him was stung. 

As Zayn’s body became firmer, tenser, more aggressive, he was also making it his aim to touch Harry at every opportunity; ‘playfully’ slapping Harry on the arse hard enough to sting, stroking a hand from hip to hip as he walks past, using any and every opportunity to whisper something inane in Harry’s ear.

Harry knew that Louis had noticed too, because he kept shooting glances between Harry, Zayn, and the signs. Niall and Liam were in their own little world, Liam had been pestering Niall non-stop for over a week since the bloody ‘Mrs Horan’ twitter breakdown, and they found it hilarious how the fans were so obsessed with their every interaction now. They had it so much easier than he did.

Half the fans already believed he was gay, no matter what he did, and he had no problem with that because as long as he never confirmed it their management couldn’t say anything about it. But the whole Harry-and-Louis thing had been something Harry had never expected. He and Louis had had a connection from the very beginning and Harry loves him like a brother. The fans mistook it for romantic love, never once noticing the much quieter interactions between Zayn and Harry. To be honest, Harry had thought they’d have caught on by now, but obviously not.

Just then Harry was bopping along to Alive when Zayn brushed a hand down his back, coming around to press his lips to Harry’s ear.

“Just saw a sign saying ‘from the bottom to the top’ with a picture of you next to ‘top’ and Louis next to ‘bottom’. That girl had no idea just how wrong she is,” Zayn said steadily, emotionlessly, but Harry still shivered a little at the implication.

“Just be happy the signs aren’t about us,” Harry said steadily before walking away without waiting for Zayn’s response. He glanced back and caught the flash of frustrated anger in Zayn’s before he masked it with a grin at Niall.

“Haz, you guys okay?” Louis asked as Harry came over to his side of the stage. It was strange being allowed to stand near Louis again, their management had decided that splitting them up all the time had been too suspicious after all, Harry had missed his best friend. But being able to stand close gave the fans more ammunition for ‘Larry’, so he couldn’t win either way. He gave Louis a weak smile. 

“You know he can’t stand the signs,” Harry said with a small shrug and Louis gave him a sympathetic smile and a shoulder squeeze before going off to sing his part. Harry had heard the slight raise in the volume of the screams when Louis had touched him, and when he glanced at Zayn’s face he knew his boyfriend had too, his jaw was tight, the muscle there jumping under his tanned skin.

The show continued in much the same way and by the end of it Harry was eager to escape from the bright lights and the poor fans who had no idea what they were stirring up. 

They took their final bows and Harry almost ran from the stage. Once they were back stage usually they were all buzzing, but the other boys could feel the tension between Harry and Zayn and were quiet as if they feared setting Zayn off. Zayn sat alone in the corner of the room, lazily flicking through his phone where he sat on the corner of the couch, and no one dared approach him. 

A lot of people, men and women, would agree that Zayn Malik is utterly, heart-breakingly beautiful, but they’d never seen him like this. Face filled with thunder, jaw clenched and sharp, the fingers of one hand tapping a staccato rhythm on the couch arm, the other clenched almost white around his phone. He was quietly intimidating, all the more gorgeous because of the harsh edge to his expression. Harry sighed tiredly before turning to Niall.

“You guys heading back to the hotel or to the clubs?” Harry asked. Harry couldn’t because he wasn’t 21 yet. Stupid America. Although technically neither could Niall, but the sly bastard had somehow managed to be let in the last few times and came home pissed even if no one ever saw him drinking in the club. 

“Yeah, think so. You and Zayn heading back to the hotel?” Niall asked with a smile, but Harry saw the ways his eyes worriedly flicked to Zayn.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, not really excited about the argument he and Zayn were probably about to have. Niall pulled him in for a hug and Harry went gratefully.

“Good luck, man,” Niall said quietly with a pat on Harry’s shoulder before following Liam out, jumping on the other boy’s back for a ride to the car. Louis hesitated, shooting Harry a look that asked if he wanted him to stay and help, but Harry gave him a smile and shook his head, knowing he and Zayn should probably be alone for whatever might come out. 

Louis finally left and they were alone. 

“You and Lou could always do that, speak with your eyes, never understood it,” Zayn murmured and Harry closed his eyes for a minute to gather himself. He walked over and locked the room door before hesitantly walking over to sit in the opposite couch corner to Zayn, turning his body to face him.

Zayn had put away his phone, his attention now wholly on Harry’s face. He’s turned too until his back was against the chair arm, one leg up on the couch and bent at the knee.

“He’s my best friend,” Harry shrugged and Zayn scanned his face for a moment. 

“I always wondered why you two never tried anything with each other,” Zayn said softly but Harry could hear what he wasn’t saying and moved until he was knelt on the couch, shuffling forwards a little until he was closer to Zayn.

“We’ve never wanted anything more than friendship, you know that, Zayn,” Harry said gently, slowly stroking a hand over Zayn’s ankle.

“Pisses me off how sure they are that you’re fucking him and not me,” Zayn said bluntly and Harry swallowed hard, attempting to quell the heat in his abdomen. He maybe has a little thing for how hot angry Zayn is, but getting turned on during an argument isn’t exactly the most appropriate reaction.

“I know,” Harry said simply and Zayn sighed, pushing a hand into his hair, making his quiff stick up messily.

“I don’t . . . It’s not like I hate the fans for it . . . Just wish they’d let it go, you know?” Zayn huffed and Harry eased forwards until he knelt between Zayn’s spread thighs, hands on Zayn’s jean-clad knees.

“I know,” Harry repeated in a whisper, feeling immensely grateful that this hadn’t become a huge blowout. Zayn reached up to curl a hand around the back of Harry’s neck and pulling until Harry was forced to bend. Zayn kept their lips a few millimetres apart, his breath tickling Harry’s lips. That flare of arousal was sparking in Harry’s stomach once again.

“Shame that they’re so sure you’re fucking Louis, they’re really missing out on imagining the beautiful way you take a cock, my cock. Nah, that’s something just for me, I think,” Zayn murmured almost thoughtfully and Harry shuddered hard, hands clenching where they’d moved to Zayn’s thighs.

“Zayn,” Harry almost whimpered, wanting to breach the distance and kiss him but knowing better by now not to disobey Zayn when he’s in this kind of mood. Zayn leaned in, but instead of going for Harry’s lips he ducked down to suck hard on the side of Harry’s neck, bruising him in a place that would be visible to fans and paps. Fans and paps who would see that Harry wasn’t in the same place as Louis when he got them. They wouldn’t even suspect Zayn, either, they all thought he was happily engaged to Perrie. 

If anyone had cause to be jealous it was Harry, but it was hard to resent a girl who literally never failed to try and help them in some way or another. She and Zayn had met and become really close friends, and when Harry and Zayn had been starting out they’d worried that their relationship may one day get the kind of scrutiny that Harry’s and Louis’ had, so they’d tried to think of a way to allay suspicion about them. Perrie had actually been the one to think of the ‘fake girlfriend’ plan.

If any fans thought she was a ‘beard’ it was in terms of Zayn and Liam, and hardly ever Zayn and Harry.

“Zayn, management is going to slaughter you for that,” Harry said breathlessly as Zayn’s mouth explored his collarbones, nipping and marking Harry’s pale skin even more.

“Ask me if I give a shit?” Zayn snapped before sucking hard on Harry’s skin, Harry gasped and shuffled as close as he could in their current positions. 

“Please,” and yep, Harry’s voice was definitely a whimper now. But he’d lost any sense of pride with Zayn a long time ago, because when someone knew how to take you apart with their mouth and leave you a mess as well as Zayn could, you forgot to be modest, forgot to be embarrassed about the sounds being torn from your throat.

Zayn’s hand stroked down Harry’s chest, going for his belt buckle, pulling it open with the deft fingers of one hand, an action that never failed to turn Harry on even more.

When Zayn finally got Harry’s jeans open he was quick to slide his hand inside Harry’s boxers, wrapping a sure hand around Harry’s erection. Harry canted his hips forwards, hastily tugging off his t-shirt and throwing it somewhere behind him. 

But Zayn kept his hand still around Harry’s dick and gave Harry a pointed, heated look that made Harry swallow hard. Harry spread his knees a little to get more leverage and began to lazily thrust his hips, sliding his erection in and out of Zayn’s tight grip, his abdomen flexing and shining with sweat. Harry shoved his hands into his own hair, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to present the long column of his neck, tendons standing taught. His mouth open with panting breaths, body tensing with each sinuous thrust into Zayn’s hand, skin damp with perspiration under the dim lights of the back room, Harry knew he must look obscene like this and he had no problem with that. He used it to his advantage, letting out soft, begging moans, praying Zayn would decide ‘fuck it’ and let go of his control.

When he felt Zayn’s lips and tongue on his abs, over what he knew was his butterfly tattoo, Harry’s hips stuttered in their languid movements. 

“Zayn . . . Baby, please,” Harry breathed shakily, dropping his hands into Zayn’s hair and looking down at him with wide, glassy eyes.

Zayn looked up and met his gaze and if Harry didn’t know him so well he’d say Zayn was unaffected, but Harry has known him for a long time, has seen him mature from the little, scrawny kid with the too-big eyes who had to be chased down by Simon Cowell himself before he’d even attempt to dance in front of other people, into this man in front of him, a man who went on stage in front of thousands of people and mucked about with his three best friends and his boyfriend, giving absolutely no fucks as to what people think about his self-assessed shitty dance moves. Harry Styles knew every inch of Zayn Malik’s body better than he could ever know his own, and even if Zayn’s face remained serene, there was a fire in his eyes, a tightening in his grip on Harry’s cock. 

Magazines could speculate and say Harry was fucking every lass he breathes near, but why the fuck would he do that when he has this man to come home to every night? When a man that literally everyone- even the people who openly hated their band- said was beautiful beyond compare? Louis had downloaded some shitty ‘golden ratio’ app last month, it was supposed to tell you if a person’s face was ‘perfectly proportioned’ as to what was deemed beautiful. Big surprise that Zayn had aced the fucking thing. Louis had cackled for hours and Zayn had pouted prettily until Harry had kissed him into smiling again. Strange that not many people realised how much Zayn hated the comments on his looks, they’d never guess that the ‘vain member’ of the band actually looked into the mirror so often due to self-consciousness, not vanity. 

Zayn had gotten his revenge on Louis though. He’d waited until Louis had gone to the loo on the tour bus. Then he slammed open the door and took a few photos of Louis with his trousers around his ankles, some from behind then others with definite dick as Louis turned in shock and managed to piss all over the toilet wall.

Louis had been warned that any more jokes about Zayn’s ‘statistically beautiful face’ would be met with those photos making an appearance on Twitter with the tagline ‘#PeeSquad2K14’. 

Zayn is the love of his life and he isn’t ashamed to admit that, especially since he wasn’t allowed to publicly claim him, and tonight had been a reminder than Zayn might be beautiful and every girl’s dream guy, but he really had no idea of the kind of hold he had on Harry.

“Come on, baby . . . anything you want,” Harry whispered, never looking away from Zayn’s beautiful eyes.

“I want to tattoo your fucking name across my chest. I want to not resent Lou when shit comes up about you two in interviews and on fan signs. I want to answer the ‘so which of you have girlfriends’ questions with your name,” Zayn said bluntly, eyes alight with passion.

“Hopefully you wouldn’t call me your girlfriend though . . .” Harry trailed off weakly, feeling breathless in the face of Zayn’s fervour. A smile flirted with the corner of Zayn’s lips but fluttered away before it became a real grin. 

“I wanna call you a lot of things, Haz, but ‘girlfriend’ isn’t one of them,” Zayn murmured, his hand began lazily stroking up and down Harry’s length, taking away any oxygen Harry had managed to suck in.

“I just want to call you mine,” Harry whispered, and fuck, it was so cheesy, so, so, so pathetic, but it made Zayn smile and that’s all Harry ever wanted, really. 

Zayn pulled his hand away and moved to tug Harry down on top of him, pressing their lips together in a lazy tangle of heat, his tongue sliding against Harry’s and shooting arousal through his abdomen. 

Things sped up quickly though and soon they were clumsily pulling at each other’s clothes, twisting and turning and basically just getting stuck, until Zayn huffed and pulled himself free of the tangle of limbs and too-tight jeans. He stripped quickly then leaned down to yank Harry’s jeans and boxers from where they’d gotten stuck at his ankles, and finally they were both naked. Harry laid back on the couch and parted his legs in welcome, biting his bottom lip and stretching his arms above his head, knowing that it made his body look long and lean. Zayn’s eyes appraised his body, following the dips and curves, the hard lines of his abdomen and the soft ones at his hips.

“Shit,” Zayn said, his voice barely a breath, before carefully lowering himself until his hips were cradled between Harry’s thighs and his hands rested on either side of his head. Their hard lengths pressed together and Harry gave a breathy little moan at the welcome contact. Zayn leaned down to kiss gently up the side of Harry’s neck, making the younger boy sigh in pleasure.

“I bruised your neck,” Zayn murmured, lips brushing Harry’s ear and making him shudder.

“Yeah,” Harry said, happily past the point of making real conversation, hips stirring to try and provoke Zayn into action.

“Do you have lube?” Zayn asked before licking along Harry’s jaw. Harry nodded.

“M’ bag,” he mumbled and Zayn clearly stifled a laugh at that but refrained from commenting. He stood up to rifle through Harry’s bag before returning with the little bottle in hand to Harry. “Stop looking so smug,” Harry said, voice slurring a little.

“I am smug though,” Zayn grinned, kneeling between Harry’s pale thighs and uncapping the little blue bottle.

“I didn’t . . . I wasn’t expecting . . .” Harry trailed off with flushed cheeks, the pink spreading down his chest too. Who was he kidding, he’d had high hopes of being fucked in the toilets after the show by his hot boyfriend. Could you blame him?

Zayn didn’t respond, just smiled wider and caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he spread lube over three fingers. When Zayn moved to brush his fingertip at Harry’s entrance he couldn’t help but close his eyes and get a little lost in the feeling. They’d had sex last night so Zayn worked up to two fingers a little quicker than usual, and when he added the third Harry sucked in a deep breath, fighting to retain a little composure, but that was lost when Zayn thrust his fingers in deep and fast, curling them up to brush at Harry’s prostate. Harry’s stomach tensed and he moaned hard, knees bending up and tightening around the intrusion of Zayn’s lithe body. 

“You ready, baby?” Zayn asked, looking a little wide eyed when Harry appraised him with a low-lidded gaze, mouth open to release panting breaths. Harry nodded hastily and Zayn removed his fingers, quickly slicking up his length and moving to position the head at Harry’s hole. He held onto Harry’s hip with one hand as he began to slowly push himself into Harry’s body. Harry concentrated on keeping his body relaxed, shivers of arousal spreading throughout his body as Zayn moved in inch by inch. When he was finally all the way in Zayn leaned down to press his forehead to Harry’s for a moment, the two of them sharing breaths.

“I love you,” Harry whispered into Zayn’s mouth, a hushed secret from the rest of the world who weren’t trusted with their relationship.

“I love you too, Haz, so fucking much,” Zayn whispered back fiercely. Harry leaned up to connect their mouths in a deep, wet kiss.

“Move,” Harry ordered and Zayn nodded before pulling back slowly pulling out until only the head remained within him. Zayn met Harry’s eyes and watched the interplay of expressions when he suddenly thrust back in firmly. Harry knew how much Zayn loved that, loved watching the pleasure play across Harry’s features, making his eyelashes flutter.

Zayn moved in a relentless rhythm, a slow, firm in and out that forced the breath from Harry’s lungs every time he buried himself inside of him. Zayn moved Harry’s hips, canting them at a different angle and his hips moved quicker, harder, and suddenly he was hitting Harry’s prostate almost every time. Harry couldn’t focus on the sounds he was making, the mewling, gasping sounds of desperation, because his whole being was focussed on the place where he and Zayn joined. Harry felt like his chest would burst with the mess of emotion within him.

It took only a few more thrusts and Harry was coming with a yelp, his teeth clamping onto Zayn’s collarbone to muffle the sounds out of habit, and Zayn groaned at the tightening of Harry’s body around his dick, coming a few thrusts later into Harry’s sated, heavy body.

Zayn collapsed down on top of him, burying his face in Harry’s neck, panting wetly against his skin. Harry danced his fingers up and down Zayn’s sweaty back, wrinkling his nose at the uncomfortably damp feeling where he and Zayn were still joined. This is the part that always made you regret the whole no condom thing. It felt fucking awesome . . . until the grim end.

“We need to head back, our security team will still be waiting downstairs for us,” Harry murmured, pressing a kiss to the salty skin of Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn gave a sleepy ‘hmph’ in response and Harry smiled before nipping his skin with his teeth in retaliation. 

“Right, okay,” Zayn muttered, reluctantly pushing himself up, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple before getting off of Harry and the couch. Harry grimaced at the feeling of . . . leaking.

“Uh, Zayn? Could you get me some tissues or something? Pretty sure if I move wrong I’ll be ruining their couch,” Harry said and Zayn laughed before grabbing a box of tissues off a nearby dressing table.

Harry cleaned up as much as he could before pulling his clothes back on, Zayn was already dressed and leaning against the wall scrolling through his phone, Harry’s bag over his shoulder. 

Harry walked over and pressed a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, Zayn glanced up at him with a grin before taking his hand and leading him out of the room and down to their security team, men who were contractually unable to talk about anything they saw the boys doing. 

The car ride to the hotel Harry watched as street lights played over the planes of Zayn’s face, his boyfriend still playing with something on his phone with one arm around Harry’s shoulders, and knew that they might have the quietest kind of love, the kind that the fans obviously couldn’t see, but it was the deepest form of love Harry had ever felt for another human being and he knew that he’d still be looking at this man in the same way for decades to come. Harry knew he would love Zayn until the day he died, and maybe even after that. His heart beat for this ‘statistically beautiful’, jealous fool.

**Author's Note:**

> #PeeSquad2K14 because Shiv likes to tell me about her wees. Love you, darling ;)
> 
> Let me know what you thought, guys :) pretty sure this is just really shit but I'd like to hear your opinions :)
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr if you want :) I'm thedeliciousrude.tumblr.com  
> xxxxxxxxxx


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